


Impressions

by beeelderly



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 11:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeelderly/pseuds/beeelderly
Summary: I'm learning how to write fanfiction by writing tiny scenes of Fourteen staring dreamily at Tender and being mad at themself for having a crush. There will be at least one for each body!





	Impressions

Fourteen stares bleakly at the table, still scattered with cards. The ring on their finger digs into the skin on their cheekbone, but they feel stuck in place, resting their head on their fist. Maybe brooding is a new feature for this body. They can imagine the shape of a dark inner monologue describing how they ended up here in this breezy outdoor bar overlooking a moonlit vista. It was a dark and stormy night…

“Fourteen.”

Fourteen’s thoughts scatter as they twist their torso to face the familiar voice and look at the source of it blearily.

She pauses at seeing their cloudy expression. “Oof. It’s worse than I thought.” Tender laughs almost to herself, resting one hand on their shoulder and smoothing their tousled hair back into place with the other. “You look like you need a drink.”

They look up at her face, her hair haloed by the hanging light fixture above. “I guess I do.”

“What’re you thinking?”

They feel her nails trail off their shoulder as she goes to step behind the bar again. Is she this touchy with everyone? Have they seen her pet other people? Signet would never let her touch her hair like this. Fourteen pushes the calculations in their head aside for a second – She asked a question. Drink? What does a cowboy drink?

“Ahh, um. A reverse…” Excellent. Excellent start. “…Mango…” Exotic. Mysterious. Now pull it back. “…Slinger.” They start to relax but tense up again when they remember something just as she touches a glass. “Hold the tonic.” 

Her nose wrinkles, and she narrows her eyes dubiously. “You sure? It really cuts the tang.”   
“It doesn’t agree with me.”   
She turns back to the bar, still making that perplexed expression. “I’ll… Find something.” Fourteen glances over at Signet, who raises her eyebrows and sips her tea. What’s that supposed to mean?


End file.
